#he looks human enough in the pic but he's not

[lilianlavsfanfictumble]

The four main characters of "Maybe this is Home" drawn by me.

It's a bit different from my usual style since my boyfriend brought me some colored liners and I thought I might use it!

[the-acid-pear]

I fucking love this movie because look at it look at IGNORE THE CENTIPEDE BTW DONT WORRY ABOUT IT but look at the color and the framing and the fucking Fog like i cannot stress enough just how cinematic the first movie is man. Kind of but not entirely lost in the sequels, where the settings were simply Ugly.

[heyitslapis]

Here's a potentially fun, hypothetical way to describe your OC's personality/moral alignment; Does your OC wear a mask when they're in public? When/where? Why/why not? What do they feel/think about it?

[tacticalhimbo]

hey look i remembered imvu exists so time to take pics of whatever character this is that i made 🤷‍♂️ gay boy sona hours

[mymitochondriaforpresident]

Omar and Simon: the role models everyone needs, even if they don’t realize it. 💜💜

[fastandcarlos]

Living With The LeClercs » Charles LeClerc

Summary: take a peek into the life of the leclerc family and see what they get up to

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by carlossainz55, pierregasly and 1,402,505 others

charles_leclerc: off season complete ✅ batteries are recharged after yet another amazing holiday with the fam

39,503 comments

scuderiaferrari: looking forward to having you back with us next week charles 🏎️

landonorris: i refuse to accept that y/d/n is yours, she's too beautiful to have your genes

ynusername: @/landonorris she just takes after her mother instead 😇

username1: nooooo, f1 season means we get less dad pics from you charles

username2: i don't ever want the dad charles era to end 😭

ynusername: thank you for the best three months, i couldn't wish for a better dad to our little humans 💕

schecoperez: you're putting me to shame with all these adorable snaps, i better start uploading too

lance_stroll: calling dibs on being first to offer babysitting during the season btw

danielricciado: @/lance_stroll you take one i'll take the other, mini charles' are a lot to handle

lance_stroll: @/danielricciardo you've got yourself a deal

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by scuderiaferrari, landonorris and 832,420 others

charles_leclerc: race day is always better with these two babies causing chaos 🥰

29,908 comments

carlossainz55: as cute as your children are, can you hurry up and stop uploading to instagram...some of us have got meetings

username3: y/s/n is hands down the coolest kid at the paddock this weekend

username4: why do i get the impresson project leclerc jr is well underway with y/d/n 🤔

oscarpiastri: STOP SHOWING OFF HOW BEAUTIFUL YOUR FAMILY ARE 😡

maxverstappen1: maybe y/s/n will have a better chance of beating me to the top of the podium than you

charles_leclerc: @/maxverstappen1 one day...he's got his eyes on you! apparently you're his favourite driver

maxverstappen1: @/charles_leclerc tell him that he's got excellent taste

ynusername: not you promoting letting toddlers get behind the wheel of high speed cars 🙄

danielricciardo: if you're looking for a coach, you know who to ask

charles_leclerc: @/danielricciado you think i'm not capable of coaching my son

danielricciardo: @/charles_leclerc sure...but if you want him to learn from a proper driver, just gimme a call 😂

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by charles_leclerc, georgerussell63 and 294,405 others

ynusername: following this man around all day, trying to keep the kids from hugging daddy is a hard day’s work (see second pic for proof 😂)

12,492 comments

landonorris: if charles isn't interested, tell the kids that uncle lando will always be ready for a cuddle

iamrebeccad: i've never done so many steps before, who knew chasing after 3 year olds was such hard work 💫

ynusername: @/iamrebeccad i did try to warn you!! you should've listened

pierregasly: he's just tryna play it cool y/n, he isn't as cool as he used to be

username5: imagine being lucky enough to walk around the paddock and just see y/s/n and y/d/n everywhere

kevinmagnussen: tell them to have a sniff of charles after being in a race car for 2 hours y/n...that will soon be enough to put them off 💩

lilymhe: i want them to chase me and give me all the cuddles in the world

username6: you just know in any free moment charles is secretly looking around wanting his kids back beside him

username7: everyone say thank you to y/n for yet another round of hot dad charles pics 🙏🏻

oscarpiastri: why can't you hug me as lovingly as you hug your son? you're supposed to me my dad too

charles_leclerc: @/oscarpiastri "adopted"

oscarpiastri: @/charles_leclerc IT ALL STILL COUNTS

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by alex_albon, oscarpiastri and 829,407 others

charles_leclerc: like father like son…the leclerc smile is deadly

78,445 comments

username8: officially the cutest photographs to ever be uploaded to the internet 🥺

username9: excuse me charles leclerc you cannot just spring photos like this on us without warning

oscarpiastri: i smile like this too...family?? 🥰

maxverstappen1: if i had to pick y/s/n definitely looks cuter

username10: i was not emotionally ready for this adorableness 💔

carlossainz55: deadly?? you look like the squishiest marshmallow

username11: @/carlossainz55 i think you've been spending too much time on the internet 😬

ynusername: my two favourite boys, how did I ever get so lucky?

charles_leclerc: @/ynusername there's no way you're the lucky one, that title belongs to me mi amor

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, carlossainz55 and 527,492 others

charles_leclerc: I’ve been posting a lot about my human kids recently, so here’s a shoutout to my other child so he doesn’t feel left out

43,482 comments

oscarpiastri: damn i almost thought that this post was gonna be about me

charles_leclerc: @/oscarpiastri i swear one more comment and i will block you, son or not

landonorris: how dare you mistreat leo like this

username12: @/landonorris #justice4leo

username13: charles leclerc...father of 3

ynusername: leo could never be forgotton, he's our favourite four legged child

alex_albon: @/ynusername also your only four legged child 🤔

estebanocon: cute kids, cute dog...how do you do it leclerc??

yukitsunoda0511: asking for a friend...do your kids also poo in the middle of the paddock or just your dog

username14: @/yukitsunoda0511 YUKI not you stitching charles up like this! 😂😂

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by estebanocon, lance_stroll and 728,493 others

charles_leclerc: my favourite things to do, being a dad with a bit of gaming too 🥺💕

53,684 comments

ynusername: where does being a husband rank in all of them??

charles_leclerc: @/ynusername you’re still my number one 😍

username15: if charles won't appreciate you come and marry me instead

maxverstappen1: so bad at fifa you've resorted to table football i see 🫢

carlossainz55: don't worry charlie, i'll beat you at that kinda football too

username16: not you forgetting the woman that gave you those two adorable humans charles 🤦🏻‍♀️

username17: public apology incoming

danielricciardo: and you just happened to be playing table football with your top off did you? 🤔

charles_leclerc: @/danielricciardo it was all just coincidence...promise

georgerussell63: charles leclerc giving the fan girls what they want since 2018

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by lewishamilton, landonorris and 842,348 others

charles_leclerc: appreciation for the wife so she doesn’t get jealous 😂 I love you honey, thank you for our perfect family ✨🔥

53,372 comments

carlossainz55: if you heard him gush about you as much as i do y/n you'd know there is never anything to be jealous of

ynusername: @/carlossainz55 what sorta thing does he say?? 🤔

charles_leclerc: @/carlossainz55 do not throw me under the bus like this!!

landonorris: one of you looks perfect, the other looks like he needs a haircut and to sort his beard out

username18: i hope you know how lucky you are charles

username19: how does y/n manage to look that good running around after y/s/n, y/d/n and charles all day???

logansargeant: can you stop making all us single people feel even more single pls 😭

schecoperez: the second best family in formula one

danielricciardo: @/schecoperez SAVAGE! 💪🏻

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, scuderiaferrari and 1,392,503 others

charles_leclerc: just a post to remind you all I can do both…no dad bod around here 🫢

101,372 comments

username20: DADDY!? 💦

landonorris: how many takes did it take you to get that shot in the gym?

carlossainz55: @/landonorris i was there...for several hours

username21: soft dad charles will always be my fave

ynusername: is there anything that you can't do? you take my breath away charles leclerc 💫💕

oscarpiastri: one day i hope to be as strong as you are...dad

charles_leclerc: @/oscarpiastri BLOCKED

alex_albon: i don't know who looks more tired, you or y/d/n

charles_leclerc: @/alex_albon me, definitely me, but i wouldn't change it for the world

 ˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[pinkanonwrites]

TFA Jet Twins/Reader longpost!

I have SO MANY thoughts about the reader and the Jet Twins, and many many magnificent treats that my dear friend @archie-sunshine has drawn at my behest (begging). These are all pertaining to the Liason Reader in my fic Washrack Academy.

THIS IS NOT ART/FIC SHIPPING THE JET TWINS TOGETHER.

I can't make that more clear. They just both like the same reader and sometimes a gal just wants to be in a big bot sandwich, okay? If you've got some sort of grievance to air about that do it in MY ASKBOX instead of Archie's. He drew all these at my behest so don't go pitching a fit at him for sating my dark passenger.

ANYWAY NSFW ART AND WRITING BELOW THE CUT!

OKAY SO In my head both the twins are turbo-virgins. Neither of them got much chance to interface when they were construction drones and now even though they have a lot of fan-bots Sentinel keeps them on too tight a leash to go around slammin' and jammin'. So there's multiple levels of curiosity the more they learn about humans vis-à-vis the human reader.

Jetfire is a lot more infatuated with the reader than his brother is. Jetstorm is just curious about humans, but Jetfire has a burgeoning crush. It's hell for him because either him or Jetstorm have to accompany the liason to the washracks to make sure no bots on base are putting them in danger when they're at their most vulnerable.

He's... handling it. Sort of.

No worries, Jetfire. You'll get there.~

Jetstorm on the other hand is really curious about interfacing with a human, not because he has any feelings for the reader (at first), but because he wants to be the first Cybertronian to interface with a human for clout. Jokes on him though because human pussy hits stupendously different and he gets infatuated about it.

Also sidebar but I have an HC that skinny bots like the twins and Jazz who don't have any plating around their torsos/waists have metal mesh bodies for flexibility. Downside is if your wires get crossed your internal interface panel will retract without retracting the external metal mesh and you get a little jumpsuit boner. For my amusement.

Last but not least here's a few delicious pieces of all of them together. Jetfire is a bit more shy, Jetstorm is way more bold, but humans are tight and wet and crazy soft and they both get pussy drunk REALLY easily. Once they get a taste they can't get enough, skulking around the base like a pair of un-neutered cats looking for their liason beau.

That's all for now! A NSFW sequel to Washrack Academy is on the horzion, I promise you. So my fellow Jet Twins enjoyers, keep an eye out! (Also LMK if you need captions for any of these pics, the lettering got compressed a bit so it may be harder to read.)

[sadembryhours]

Can you a Josh x reader where the reader helps Josh cope with his sisters’ death?

HUMAN! ♡ josh washington

synopsis : you try your best to help him live ; allow him to grieve and hold his hand as he does. silently, he’s forever thankful.

cw : heavy mental health talk / depections , josh is unwell , reader takes care of him

song inspo ; human by dodie

🪷 if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked. 🪷

Blue and red lights surround you, bouncing off of the freshly fallen snow. Jess is sobbing into Mike's shoulder, Emily holding her hand as they talk to two officers in their uniform. Sam is laying her own head on your shoulder, her hand squeezing yours as you both sit in silence.

Chris stands with Josh, who only stars at the mountain view around him.

You shiver as the wind whips by you, carrying a conversation your way. Two other officers look at Josh warily before looking back at the lodge. It was a crime scene now — closed for everyone until further notice.

"With me," your voice cuts through. Josh's watery, unseeing eyes seem to find you. With a frown, you look back towards the officer. "He can stay with me."

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🪷ɞ˚‧｡⋆

The silence of the drive home follows you as you lead Josh inside. He treks in slowly, boots heavy, laced with snow and distress. Lifelessly, Josh all but falls onto your couch, perching there stiffly.

You frown, "Josh? Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

He mumbles, but you can only hear him saying his sisters names. Crouching, you meet his gaze as best as you can. Your fingers lace into his — they're cold ; frigid and frozen as he simply twitches at the touch. "Josh. Are you with me?"

He still doesn't speak, no movement or sound comes from him at all. You hold your dismay in, concealing it and composing yourself instead. You stand, shuffling Josh out of his shoes and jacket until he's left in his sweater. Taking off your own outside clothes, you turn the tv onto something silly and absent-minded. With a stroke to the top of his head, you leave Josh to make something warm to eat.

It'll take time, you think to yourself. The stove comes to life, warming your house up even more as you cook. The living room is silent — Josh sits as still as a statue. You don't even know if he's blinked since coming in — since Sam woke him up from the horrible prank that was played on his sisters. It'll just take some time.

You blow on the food you'd made, setting it on the coffee table in front of you. A cup of Josh's favored drink goes to the left of it as you leave to get on your own plate. The couch dips as you sit beside him — he's still blank, even as you nudge him gently.

"Eat before it gets cold," you say quietly. Gentle — Josh needs gentle, tender words to help him come back ; help him heal. He merely blinks. "Should I feed you, then?"

A twitch of his lips — it's not much, but it's enough to get a grin out of you. Leaning forward, you meet his eyes. "I will! Is that what you want? The royal treatment, your highness Josh?"

His lips spread into a small, delicate smile before creaky, frozen joints start to move. He grabs his silverware with shaking hands, settling the plate on his lap. Josh stares at the steam, "thanks."

"Eat up," you respond. You squeeze his free hand for a minute before letting it go. Josh looks at you through his eyelashes and you smile at him. "There's plenty more if you're still hungry."

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🪷ɞ˚‧｡⋆

No longer catatonic, Josh still only spoke quietly and sparsely. He ate one meal a day, if that, and only because you pestered him to do so. A week had went by with him simply sitting. He turned the tv to a news channel, eyes wide and seeing each and every emergency broadcast.

Simply waiting for any news of his sisters.

"Hey," you lean on the doorway between the kitchen and living room. Josh turns his head only an inch, eyes cemented on the current weather updates. "Want to shower? It'll warm you up."

Josh's hands twitch in his lap as he blinks. You bite your lip, going to stand in front of him. It's as if he's looking through you ; as if he can still the tv you stand in front of. "Josh?"

With no response, you take matters into your own hands once more. A warm washcloth is held in one hand, a bowl of steamy, soapy water in the other. You kneel on the floor in front of Josh, the bowl off to your right. Dipping the washcloth in the water, you wring it out before wiping Josh's face tenderly.

He blinks at the warmth, inhaling the scent of your soap slowly. Life trickles back into his eyes, sea foam brightening surely until he's looking at you. "[Name]."

"Hi," you grin at him. You set the rag down, hands in your lap as Josh stares. "Doing alright?"

"Yeah." Looking at the damp cloth in your hand, Josh blinks. "I don't think I can stand."

You shake your head before he finishes his sentence. You lift yourself to your knees, raking your fingers in his hair. "Don't worry about it. This is enough for now."

Josh's eyes flutter at your touch as you continue to give him a half-hearted bath. His hands unclench, leaving his side to wrap around your elbows. You pause, rag against his neck as you look at him curiously. He breathes out, "thank you."

"I'll get you a change of clothes when I'm done, hm?"

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🪷ɞ˚‧｡⋆

The nightmares seem to start then. The more Josh continued to come back to reality, the meaner his mind became. Trying to get him in a bed was useless — your guest room was absent of a tv and he needed to see the news.

Whimpering wakes you from the small sleep you'd drifted off to. You never had a deep sleep now, always keeping one ear open for Josh. Letting out a sleepy sigh, you stumble into the living room.

He's already awake by the time you find him. Curled up on the floor in front of the couch, knees to his chest as he cries. "Sorry," Josh stutters, "sorry, I'm so sorry."

You don't know if he's talking to you or someone — something else.

Slowly, so you don't spook him, you take a seat to Josh's left. Your eyes droop as you lean your chin on the table, hand inching to his. You entertwine your fingers with his, taking them from where Josh was pulling and tugging at his hair.

Josh jumps, eyes wide and startled as he searches for you in the darkness. You smile his way softly, "let's sleep in my room tonight. I'll keep the tv on."

You're already half-asleep when Josh curls around you. Turning, you open you arms to welcome him into your embrace. A heavy, withering sigh escapes his mouth and causes his chest to tremble. Josh burrows his face into your chest, "thank you, [Name]."

"You have to stop thanking me," you slur sleepily. Tender, tickilish nails scrape against his scalp lightly, bringing him closer to you. Josh sighs and relaxes further. "I don't mind taking care of you."

As you drift off, a tentative, burning kiss is left at your clavicle. Josh breathes you in once more before he delves into blissful, happy memories of his sisters.

————

sadembryhours © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the name airbendertendou.

[monimccoythings]

Feral!Logan drabbles

Oooh finally did it. Couldn't resist to write some silly Feral!Logan drabbles. Wanted to use a pic of Hugh in the first movie but this one was too perfect for what I had in mind. I love this little feral hairy man.

Reader is female.

So Reader is a mutant with light based habilities. She can absorb electricity from devices and machines and turn them into blasts of light (kinda like Starlight from the Boys)

Reader's on the run from the American government, they want to harvest her powers and use them as a way of 'defending' themselves from mutantkind. For the last year she has been running. Right now she has crossed the border and is currently in the middle of a blizzard in the Canadian Rockies.

She's tired, hungry, cold and there's no electrical current in miles, so her powers are basically rendered useless. And they keep chasing. She doesn't know how much longer she's going to last.

Reader can barely see and trips on a branch, knocking herself out.

Feral!Logan has been living in the mountains since he escaped from Weapon X, probably in the 80s. Has no memories, no social knowledge, just survival instincts.

Feral!Logan hates when strangers enter his territory and refuse to leave. Those are his hunting grounds, not theirs. He swiftly disposes of the agents and approaches the unconscious Reader.

He feels a weird tingling on his chest when he sees the pretty human female laying on the snow. His fingers slowly caress her soft features. He decides that moment he must have her.

Believing her to be a mate for him, Feral!Logan carries her back to the cave where he lives, placing her carefully on the pile of furs he has collected from his hunts.

When Reader awakes, she finds herself laying in a makeshift bed of animal fur in some random cave instead of a government jail cell. She immediately panics, not knowing where she is.

She tries to leave, but is stopped by a wild looking man covered in dirt. Taller than her and built like a fridge. He's half naked, his only clothing are two dog tags hanging from his neck and some undergarments that leave little to the imagination.

Under all that dirt there was hairy body rippling with muscles more fitting of a bodybuilder than a man who lived by himself in the mountains. Jeez, you could grate cheese on those abs. Reader can't help staring.

Feral!Logan roughly pushes her back against the furs. One single hand is enough to keep her still, which speaks volumes of the kind of strength he possesses.

The rugged man starts sniffing her everywhere, her neck, her collarbone, he kepts getting lower, grunting approvingly. When he's about to reach that part of her anatomy. She grabs his dishelved hair, trying in vain to keep him away. He looks at her, annoyed at having been denied of his prize; but, surprinsingly, obeys.

From then on, Reader's entire life becomes that cave and her mysterious savior/keeper. He provides her with shelter, warmth, water from a nearby stream and food from his hunts. Feral!Logan wants to prove himself as a worthy partner for her, catering to her needs.

Reader didn't spend most of her childhood summers in camps to eat now raw meat, no matter how little Feral!Logan seems to care about it. So she teaches him how to light a fire the old fashioned way, lamenting she can't use her powers so it'd be easier.

And he freaks out.

After a while he gets used to it, he nearly gives you a heart attack when he touched it and his burnt hand healed almost instantly. He rumbled pleasingly when you held his large hands between yours, marvelled at his healing factor.

At night, they sleep together, in the makeshift bed of animal skins. His arm engulfs her waist, pressing her smaller body towards his powerful chest. It's nearly impossible for her to move away.

Like hell he's going to let her go.

[millieisawriter]

Workin' girl

arthur morgan x reader

summary: the one where arthur pulls a john — falling in love with a working girl. it was never supposed to happen, yet it did, and now arthur is left with two choices. either he, again, walks away from a woman that loves him, or tries to fight for her.

wc: 2k

all pics taken from pinterest

♡this wasn't requested, but if you wish to request something you're more than welcome♡

a/n: i see this happening in blackwater in case i decide to write a 2nd part, but when i started writing i imagined saint denis, didn't see any town/city names mentioned as i was proof-reading, lmk if you see something i missed <3

Life has never treated you kindly so eventually, as soon as you could leave your family home, you turned to the oldest profession in the world. Even if that kind of life was better, it still wasn't ideal, but it was the best you could do. Eventually, you started to like it because even with its issues and dark sides it wasn't that terrible. Some would even dare saying it was 'easy money', which you actually knew wasn't true.

Luckily for you, you ended up in one of the more expensive brothels. Maybe it was the 'splendor' of the place, the luxurious interior, that made you feel somewhat safe. Safer than you would feel in some cheap saloon where the patrons consisted of drifters with a questionable past.

You had your regular patrons, ones that you got along with well — one of the reasons why they were your regulars. These were the men that could stay a bit longer after the service itself was done without making it awkward. Ones that you could have a conversation with, ones that saw you as another human being, not just an item to relieve their frustration.

It was a normal evening, the building was neither empty nor full. You didn't have that much on your hands, you and a fellow working girl were entertaining a group of men. They sat by a table, a drink in one hand, a cigar in the other, and two of these men had a companion in their lap — you and your friend. Ending the evening in the bedroom wasn't certain, for now you were just trying to make them spend as much money as possible on the drinks.

Then, Arthur walked in. One of your regulars, one you were particularly fond of. The chemistry between the two of you was so strong sometimes you wanted to tell him he didn't have to pay.

His eyes immediately found you, and he would be lying if he said he didn't feel jealous seeing you in the man's lap. But you, as if on command, turned to look at Arthur and as you noticed your favorite patron, you excused yourself from the table.

"Mister Callahan," you beamed, approaching the man, "so good to see you again."

He tipped his hat to you, his lips curling into a soft smile. "Evenin' darlin', thought I'd stop by again. You been keepin' busy?"

The way he always called you darling, every time, made you feel so warm and bubbly. Of course, he wasn't the first man to do that, but when it came from him, it felt almost sincere.

"Busy enough," you replied, glancing over your shoulder at the table of men you just left, "but I'll always make time for you, mister."

"Well, reckon I'll take you up on that. How bout we find a quiet spot?"

"Your wish is my command." Giggling, you took Arthur by the hand to lead him upstairs where your room was. Even if he already knew the way well enough.

Your room was just like any other room in that brothel — furnished with the most luxurious-looking furniture, tastefully decorated with expensive ornaments, every little detail taken care of.

As the door to your room clicked shut behind you, the world outside seemed to fade miles away. In that moment right there it were just the two of you, bathed in the dim light by the fireplace's glow.

Arthur's hat found its usual place on the small table by the door and he turned to face you, "I can never stay away for too long." Shortly, his hands landed on your waist, resting on the corset of your dress.

"Then maybe you should visit more often..." You suggested, your own hands finding their way to the man's shoulders.

"I'm afraid it ain't a good idea, darlin'. I always look forward to seein' you. But sayin' goodbye..."

"I get what you mean," you chuckled, "so what's it gonna be today? Just the regular service, or you want something extra? It'll be on the house."

Every time Arthur visited you, it was both blissfull and painful for him. You were so good at what you were doing it felt like a religious experience, but the attachment he held for you left a hole in his heart each time he had to say goodbye.

He had always wished he could just ask you to leave this life, and join the gang, but which woman would agree for this? Your current life, your current job, as oppressing as it was, couldn't be worse than living on the run. In Arthur's eyes at least.

In the brothel you had your own room, a wardrobe with many dresses. You had a somehow stable income, it didn't seem as if money were any issue to you. All this, compared to what you could have in the camp, was much worse. And you didn't even know his real last name, there was no reason for you to leave this life you had for a criminal.

Why did Arthur even fall for a working girl? The exact same thing happened to John, which Arthur would often make fun of him for. Maybe life just decided to pull a joke on Arthur now. But he just couldn't control himself, from the first time he saw you, you were different. With other women it didn't take long to notice they're just playing a role, but you... from the first time you even smiled at Arthur, he was drawn to how genuine it looked. And now, you had become not just a pretty face to entertain him, but someone he felt at ease with.

This time, as many times before, Arthur didn't hurry to get dressed and leave the room, return back to camp after getting what he wanted. Instead, he stayed under the covers in your bed, smoking a cigarette as you kept going on about something that happened a few days ago.

He didn't mind, he could let you yap his ears off, your voice was such a calming sound. It was almost hard to believe you weren't just a hallucination he made up. How could such an ethereal being just lay there, next to him, head propped on your palm as you lay on your stomach, talking about whatever nonsense? How could this happen to a man like Arthur Morgan?

"...so then," you paused to take the cigarette from Arthur, take one puff and hand it right back, "you'd think a man like him would have some sense, right? Well, no, he was so damn thick in the head, she just told the guard to throw him out!"

Arthur chuckled, exhaling a stream of smoke. "Bet he didn't see that comin'. I'm glad I ain't made it onto your list of thick-headed fools yet."

"Yet!" You playfully reminded him. "You seem to have more sense than others, although I can't say I'm some weak little girl. I don't even need a guard, but the madam insists it's for safety."

A thought lingered in the back of Arthur's mind. It was weird, in a sense, to know there's a guard right outside your door whenever you had a man up there. Even right then.

"I don't doubt you could handle yourself, darlin'," Arthur smirked, taking one last drag from his cigarette, "but it don't hurt havin' someone lookin' out for you."

You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips. "Guess you're right, mister."

Arthur stubbed out the ciragette into the ashtray that stood on the bedside table, knowing what it meant. His time was up, he extended the time of his visit as long as he could. Now that his usual cigarette was finished, it was the time for him to go.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed to stand up. You watched as he reached for his clothes that had been thrown onto the floor, and for the first time a single tear started to burn the corner of your eye.

With his jeans already on, and his shirt for now unbuttoned, he reached to the pocket, retrieving the usual payment. You wiped the tear away as it escaped your eye. It was always the same routine, but it didn't make it any easier to watch him go.

"Here it is." He said almost robotically, placing the money next to the ashtray, throwing in a little tip.

You looked at the money with sadness in your gaze, then your eyes shifted to look at the man. "You know, you shouldn't have to pay, because you don't make it feel like work."

There they were, the words Arthur was so afraid to hear. Him having a more romantic kind of attachment to you was one thing. However, knowing that you reciprocated the feeling, made it more difficult.

"Good," he nodded, "cause you don't make me feel like the bastard I am," as he buttoned up his shirt.

You sat up on the bed, pulling the sheets harder around you, since you were still naked. "Arthur..." You sighed, the rest of the sentence dying in your throat.

The fact that for the first time you had used his actual name instead of calling him mister as always, made it only more difficult.

"No, darlin', don't."

"You know you don't have to leave, right?"

Oh, he had to leave. If he overstayed his welcome too much, the guard at your door would become highly suspicious. And that would only cause issues for you.

"I have to, don't wanna make it harder." Arthur replied.

"Harder for who? I know a man's nature well enough, and I can tell there's something more in the— the way you fuck me, Arthur."

He thought maybe playing dumb would help him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that if you were to ask me to... to abandon this life for you... I would."

Arthur gulped. It was just what he wished for, but what he couldn't allow to happen. "I've got nothin' to give you. I live on the run, it ain't somethin' you wanna be a part of, trust me."

"You think I'd rather keep fucking strangers to survive, than travel the world with a man I lo—"

"You don't." Arthur interrupted you. "You don't know what you're talkin' bout." Love was a word of huge weight, there was no way it was what you felt for him.

You insisted. "I know what I feel, and I know what you feel, I see it in your eyes, I feel it when you're in my bed, Arthur. I wanna leave this life for you."

"It ain't gonna be no escape, though, just another kind of trap. You deserve better than fuckin' strangers to get by, but you also deserve better than runnin' and not knowin' which day will be your last."

"I don't want better!" At that point you didn't care if the guard outside will hear. "I want you, Arthur!"

"I want you too, darlin'," he admitted, his voice breaking slightly, "but... you're safer here. I can't sentence you to a life of eternal wanderin'."

His words had a final tone, but as well as you could read his eyes, you could tell he regrets saying what he had just said. You could have had a roof over your head, and locks in your door, but it wasn't safety. It was survival.

You stepped closer, reaching out to grab Arthur's hand. You knew he didn't want to leave, you were sure he wants you just like you wanted him. "Arthur..."

His heart ached when he saw the way your beautiful eyes looked at him, but still he decided to kiss you. It only made it worse, making another cut in Arthur's already damaged heart.

"I gotta go." He stated, freeing his hand from yours.

"No." You refused as if you had any say in that matter. You could demand he takes you with him now, wherever he's headed, but what would it do?

"I can't make promises," he continued, putting his boots and jacket on, then his hat, "but I'll figure somethin' out."

You stayed silent, watching him leave the room, not knowing if he's going to keep his word. All you had now was the money, that you didn't even want from him, and the promise that could have been empty.

[wondernus]

— DAD OF THE YEAR

SYNOPSIS: seungcheol accidentally reveals he has a daughter on a first date and doesn't know how to tell you that his daughter is a dog

PAIRING: csc x reader

GENRE: fluff

TAGS: first dates, dog dad cheol

WC: 575

MESSAGE FROM NU: s/o to this seungcheol for making it out of the dating app conversation phase & making it work bc I did it once and it did not turn out like this

seungcheol doesn't know if he has the heart to tell you that it was all a misunderstanding that he accidentally took too far. several hours of conversations on a popular dating app about various niche topics that piqued both of your interests led the two of you to skip the basics. he didn't find out about your occupation until twenty minutes into the current date.

when you accidentally drop your phone on the sidewalk, he immediately bends over to pick it up for you. but one of kkuma's several hair clips from the last time he walked her falls out of his jacket pocket and slides a few centimeters away from his hand. by the time he slips it back into his pocket, you've already seen the pastel-hued flower clip.

you tilt your head at him while he hands you back your phone as if to ask him who that clip belongs to.

"my daughter" — the answer slips out of his mouth before he can correct himself. he's already so used to calling his dog his daughter that it feels right to address her in that way.

when he realizes his mistake, he's expecting a question from you asking for an explanation about the bomb that he just dropped. his correction forms on the tip of his tongue, but you're quick to beat him. and weirdly enough, you ask him about her clips and whether or not he does her hair every day.

the several pistons that churn his brain are all firing at once. there's a frenzy happening in his mind. are you going to ignore the fact that he said he has a daughter even though the daughter is technically a dog? would you think of him differently? he already knows about how you always look at city bike riders to see if they've adjusted their seats high enough, but he doesn't even know if you're a dog person.

yet he casually continues the conversation. he's been sucked into a black hole. he loves talking about her accessories and the different ways he dresses her up. she's his daughter. of course he's going to spoil her and dote on her all the time. he can't stop talking about her and embarrassingly spends a good chunk of the date talking about her.

he talks about how she's the smartest in her class, how she's a picky eater, and how she sleeps by his side. he thinks you're fully convinced that he has a human child at this point, but he doesn't know when exactly is a good time to casually drop the fact that he has been talking about a dog the whole time.

"do you have pictures of her?" you ask him. the question causes him to physically stop in his tracks.

"huh?" he dumbly asks in response.

"your dog right? I remember seeing a pic of her in your profile." you're smiling at him.

all of the little fires in his head extinguish. smoke rises from the top of his head. gosh, it feels so nice to know that there wasn't a miscommunication. you're a good listener and you pay attention to tiny details that even he might miss. he thinks you're cute, especially the way your eyes seem to smile more than your mouth. he blushes.

"yeah. lots of them." he grins while pulling out his phone from his pocket. "we can picnic with her next time."

"great. it's a date."

[jaythes1mp]

Do you think readers' lives would be different if they were a deer hybrid?

Fun Fact: Did you know that cervids (from the deer, deer and elk family) are considered extremely sensitive animals. When suffering severe stress, such as when captured or rescued, for example, the animal's reaction can cause what is called 'capture myopathy' ', which compromises the organism of these animals.

I do, actually. Because, another fun fact! In June of this year me and my roommate saved a baby deer who was laying next to her mums dead body (she was less than 48 hours old). Fortunately she wasn’t injured. We were extremely lucky to be living next to a wildlife specialist, our neighbour, who’s been looking after Astrid and will continue to until she’s old enough to be relocated. Thankfully this wasn’t the first deer that’s been brought to her. So unfortunately I'm very acquainted with that fact.

She’s still striving strong though! These were the first pics taken of her.

Anyway, how they’d react:

Batfam x deer hybrid reader

With Damian's exceptionally caring nature when it comes to animals, he has already meticulously planned out the perfect environment for your deer forms comfort. He has considered every possible scenario and tailored everything to ensure your contentment as well as a space to meet all of your needs.

The young Wayne would thoughtfully strategize and visualise your reactions to every minor action or stimulus. He would carefully consider the most appropriate responses and adapt his behaviour to ensure a positive and nurturing environment for you. Even if the environment in question was one that you were forced into.

The bats would handle your transformed state with great caution, disregarding if your human mind was in control when you were transformed or not. Given your affiliation with the Cervidae family in your animal form, the Wayne family would be especially mindful and considerate of your natural tendencies, behaviours, and instincts.

Despite Dick's intelligence and expertise as a vigilante, being second only to Bruce Wayne himself, his impatience would become apparent within the twenty-ninth attempt to approach you for some affectionate ‘big brother cuddles’. Assuming you’re an adult or older teen, you would be extremely skittish and resistant in your deer form to his advances and attempts to get close, if not completely avoid his presence altogether, let alone let him cling to you for a ‘snuggle.’

Jason wouldn’t comprehend why you’d consistently conceal yourself, in both forms, hiding behind the couch every time he arrives, or why you involuntarily freeze at the sound of his motorcycle, or even why you instinctively flee at the slightest hint of him standing or making a move. But despite his confusion, he doesn't hold it against you. He’s witnessed the horrific experiences and trauma the children of Gotham City are subjected to, and if hiding and evading is the way you cope with what you’re going through, then he’s willing to wait patiently for you to feel secure in his presence. As your sibling, he vowed never to give you a reason to fear him. He knows just how overwhelming it is in this new environment, and he’s not planning on giving you any more reasons to be frightened by them.

Tim would find it easier to deal with your distressed nature than the others, opting to monitor you through the security cameras, allowing him to work on his cases simultaneously, rather than being overly affectionate with you. This way, he could keep a watchful eye on you without having to directly interact, which allows him to multi-task and focus on both keeping you safe and solving his cases.

Despite Jason and Dick no longer living in the Manor, Bruce would likely be the one to spend the least time with you. However, he's not neglecting you. He makes a conscious effort to rearrange his busy schedule, keeps certain days free every week, and meticulously plans time for some quality family bonding. Even if the quality time in question only consists of him quietly sitting in your vicinity, sipping on some freshly made tea while reading the newspaper, he cherishes every moment that he gets to share with you. Simply being near you is enough. Because you're his child, and he's not planning on fucking that up ever again.

[lordprettyflackotara]

Did it First || Part Two || Jeff the Killer

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+. tw: descriptions of gore; yandere!reader, yandere!jeff, rough sex, honestly just yandere as fuck

Jeff the killer had destroyed the sweet innocent you.

If the sex wasn’t enough, seeing you with an axe in your hand did it. You stood over Stella, a blonde Jeff had been fucking for months while also fooling around with you. Jeff was frozen in shock, his eyes widened as he stared at her bloody corpse. You had attacked her from behind, her back mangled and flesh hanging on by thin shreds of her skin. You didn’t stop there Jeff would find out, his eyes trailing up to her face. You had stepped on her, pinning her to the ground as you swung the axe at her throat. Jeff could see the manic swings you had took, her head cut off, sitting beside her corpse.

Jeff had seen and had done a lot in his day. But this? This was a lot for even him to handle. Just yesterday he had been entangled with her in the sheets, her eyes now permanently open in shock. They were lifeless, fear washing over the pale killer as he looked up at you. Splattered blood was staining nearly your entire body, your cheeks painted with the droplets. Blood soaked your shirt and pants, an unhinged grin spread across your lips.

“What’s wrong Jeff? You killed for me so I killed for you. After all, you did it first.”

Jeff was not as infatuated with you as he thought he was. What you nor Jeff realized, was what everyone else around him already knew. He had the attention span of a walnut. Jeff had a pattern of doing this, hyper-fixating on girls and then growing bored. It was nothing personal. Jeff did what he did and he would continue to do what he wanted to do. Every girl he had done this to before had two options. They could either cope and move on. Or, if they were more of a spicy bunch, Jeff would have to kill them off. It was sickeningly satisfying to the killer, making someone fall in love with them so hard that they couldn’t move on with their lives. Jeff knew his entanglements with average girls could get messy. Slenderman made it very clear any potential threat to exposure would need to be terminated.

Besides obligation from him, Jeff enjoyed slaughtering his past lovers. Something about seeing the insides of a person really gave him something to remember them by. Faces and names became blurred, Jeff unable to even remember his last fling before you. But what he could remember crystal clear was the fact that none of them. not one, had returned the favor. Jeff enjoyed killing off people in his flings lives. Relatives, lovers, friends, it all blended together after a while. The mortal attachments that made humans so fragile was adorable to him. He loved nothing more than to cut that cord. His brain always justified it beyond it being a means to control his fling. Most people didn’t realize they’d be better off without those restraints holding them back. Jeff thought that if anything him killing Jim was tame. He was a shitty hookup, not a work of art or someone memorable in the grand scheme of things.

Killing wasn’t anything super meaningful anyways. So after a couple of months, Jeff grew hopelessly bored. He knew everything about you. There was no mystery, no fantasy. You were exactly who you presented yourself to be. It’s not like Jeff could reciprocate, his life a forced secret that he had to keep. And you could bet your sweet ass he wasn’t going to tell you how he became the monster he was. So Jeff did what he always did, he disappeared and moved on. As he stared at Stella’s corpse he supposed deciding to move on within the same town was perhaps not the best idea he’s ever had. Stella was the stereotypical blonde you saw on social media in bikini pics. Jeff didn’t necessarily have a type, but she was the bobble headed moron Jeff needed after a fresh break up. His appearance didn’t freak her out either, an added plus. He ignored that it was because of her wanting to spite her parents. She wanted him to get her pregnant, the idea of having a freaks baby to piss off her parents somehow the best plan in her mind.

Jeff didn’t mind playing into it anyways, burying himself in her cunt every night. It didn’t matter anyways, her parents had been dead in their bedroom for days. He would’ve loved to keep the affair going, but truthfully he was too lazy to bother moving the bodies. He knew the smell would catch her attention and things would get unnecessarily bloody. He didn’t need to kill her anyways, he knew she would be shipped off to the closest mental institution. But didn’t she need it anyway? Wanting a killer to impregnate her just to piss a couple of people off? Yeah, Jeff could definitely justify breaking things off. He decided to check on her one last time, wanting to really savor the feeling of her cunt. She may have been a helpless airhead but Jeff was never one to turn down sex. That’s when he saw you, proudly standing in her bedroom doorway. He must’ve missed the murder by a few minutes, the blood still fresh and oozing out of the corpse.

What Jeff hadn’t anticipated was the opposite what he wanted. All of his time as a killer he either ditched or killed girls, no in between. He picked seemingly average and normal women, careful to avoid ones that seemed unstable. His mistake was choosing you. Your obsessive tendencies and underlying codependency issues slipping under the cracks of his inspection. You were the devil in disguise, unaware that he would provoke it out into exposure.

You didn’t accept Jeff’s choice. If anything you had convinced yourself that he had been tricked in some way or was testing you. Ultimately you decided either way, the blonde bitch had to go. So you began stalking him as he once stalked you. You hid in the shadows, watching him climb into her window time and time again. It seemed so bluntly obvious to you this was a test, the killer not even attempting to conceal himself in his bright white hoodie. So you waited for the perfect moment. Coming right and out and killing her during their affair didn’t seem right. You didn’t want either of them to have a chance of preventing what had to be done. Jeff would confidently stroll into her house around the same time every night. He was so predictable. You felt like even though you lacked the traditional information one usually has about their partner, you knew Jeff. You knew what he liked and disliked. You knew his habits like picking at his nails or running his fingers through his hair. You knew him better than he could’ve ever imagined.

“Wow this um, wow,” Jeff said, trying not to stumble over his words. The pale killer had never been so caught off guard before. You dropped the axe, allowing it to fall to the floor as you approached him. “I understand why you did it, testing me. Finding a real ride or die bitch must be hard when you’re a real man,” You purred. You strolled behind him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You could feel him tense up, freezing as you placed a kiss to his neck. “You need a real woman and guess what baby? I’m that bitch. Blondie here could’ve never done this for you,” You say, glancing over at the bloody corpse. Jeff swallowed, becoming increasingly nervous and aroused. Jeff liked to have control in any and all situations, but something about the lack of control in this one was making him incredibly flustered. It was humbling, having you snatch the reigns from him. “Now it can just be us. Just me and you,” You cooed. Your blood stained hands coated his hoodie, covering it with an all too familiar color. “Thats right,” Jeff confirmed, swallowing. You pressed a few soft kisses to his neck, before standing on your tippy toes to reach his ear.

“Oh and Jeff?”

“Huh?”

“If you ever fuck another bitch again i’ll kill you.”

Jeff should’ve been terrified. He had created a mini me. A monster. Yet he felt all of his blood rush to his cock, your curious gaze not failing to notice. “Oh baby does this turn you on? Seeing what i’d do for you?” You asked mockingly. You smirked as Jeff braced himself, his cock aching against his jeans. Your hand slithered down to his front zipper, pulling it down aggressively. It didn’t take long for your hand to find his cock, pulling at the length as it hardened in your palm. Your other hand slid to his throat, cuffing it and squeezing. “Not so big and powerful now are we?” You hummed. Jeff bit his bottom lip, the urge to snap at you rising but the feeling you were providing him was far more euphoric. “You’re a crazy fucking bitch,” He panted, watching you slowly jerk him off. You smiled as you nibbled at his ear lobe. “I’m sorry what was that? You wanted me to stop?” You teased. Jeff’s patience had thinned, quickly turning around and grabbing you. He tossed you onto the bed, pinning you onto the mattress. “I said you’re a crazy fucking bitch,” He hissed.

You giggled with glee as he began to tear at your pants, shoving them down to your ankles. He roughly palmed your panties, growling. “Wet already whore? Seriously? Murder get you off?” Jeff huffed. You grinned as he tore your panties harshly, ripping the fabric and tossing it to the ground: With two fingers he rubbed up and down your folds, examining your slick. “You’re fuckin soaked, don’t think you need any prep,” Jeff grunted. He grabbed his shaft, rubbing it up and down your folds. “Besides princess you better get used to taking this dick, since you’ll be taking it for the rest of your life,” He spat, shoving himself inside of you harshly. You had taken Jeff dozens of times before. But this. Something about the way he was fucking you now obliterated all of those previous experiences. He showed no mercy as he bottomed out inside of you, taking a brief moment to relish in the feeling of your walls clinging to him. “You’re insane, you know that?” He asked. You giggled at his comment, watching him pin your wrist above your head. “I’m insane? You’re one to talk,” You countered.

This earned you a sharp slap across the face, causing you to whine as Jeff moved his hips. “Dont talk back to me slut,” He barked. He didn’t give you time to process his response, his hips aggressively snapping into yours. All thoughts about the gruesome scene behind the two of you had faded, the only thing you were able to focus on being one another. Jeff’s thrust were harsh and unforgiving. You wanted him forever? Wanted to be his girl? Then you better buckle up and bow down to who you belonged to. You whined as the knot inside of your stomach tightened further, his cock abusing your g spot. “You take me so nice. Shit, maybe you really were made for me,” Jeff grunted. You smeared Stella’s blood on his face with your hands, cupping them against his cheeks. The crimson paint stained his pure white skin, the blood of his ex lover unfazing him as he rammed into you.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, trapping him as if he came closer to his high. “Go on Jeff, cum in me. I’m all yours,” You pleaded. Your begging made him lick his lips, his permanent grin curling upwards into a real one. “You sick bitch. I’ll give you what you deserve,” He snarled. He watched you slither a hand to your clit, both of you close to your highs. As euphoria washed over you it occurred to you this is all you ever really wanted. Him to be yours. With his cum flooding your cunt and filling you to the brim, you realized you got what you wanted.

[dancingdonatello]

jealousy headcanons rottmnt x gn reader

Raph is a sad jealous, both before you two date and during. He knows you’re human and he knows he’s… him. He knows there’s a bunch of good looking humans on the surface and sometimes his chest burns when you talk about your friends and show pics of them.

Sure, you cuddle him and his brothers, another thing that makes his chest hurt, but you also are very touchy feely with these human buds of yours.

While dating, he won’t say a word about his jealousy. He has a whole mindset of him being just lucky enough for you to even like him. He shouldn’t push his luck by acting all jealous. It’s really up to you to pay attention to every tick of his to see what makes him uncomfortable and to talk about it with him.

Donnie is obvious, the most obvious of his brothers. Whenever you mention a guy, he has a comeback with how he’s better. Some guy has good muscles? He mentions his own and even flexes. Some guy is really smart? Oh, can they build an atomic bomb from scratch? He didn’t think so. They saved a cat the other day from a tree? He saved the entire world from an alien invasion, baby.

Soon you just ended up mentioning other guys to see him flex or go on a rant about why

When dating, he has a list and picture of all his competition and keeps it on the wall. He throws darts at them. He keeps a list of all their embarrassing moments and keeps old pictures they had on their instagrams to show you to give you the ‘ick’ and then shows pictures of himself posing with the skyline of New York behind him.

Before dating, Mikey only gets jealous sometimes. But he’s very good at keeping a healthy and positive mindset. It’s hard for him to get stuck in his head about you potentially dating someone other than him.

However, while dating, Mikey kills any competition with kindness. Well, sort of. He cooks them too spicy of food. Their toast may be a little burnt, their coffee… tastes strange. Any and all handshakes, he uses full force, making them whimper and clutch their hands.

Every allegation made against him is met with eyebrow raises and shakes of the head. Mikey would never!

He is not a force to be reckoned with.

Leo’s part

[simporado]

Bakugo x reader // fluff, established relationship

When Dynamight is a top ranked Pro Hero, people will naturally pay attention to him. He's good at what does, makes little to no mistakes on the field, albeit his fiery attitude. Also, he's hot. People can see he mellowed out, but he's still bite and bark (when it matters).

Literally everytime he's on the news, he'll be trending. Stopping a simple robbery despite not being the only pro hero present? News. Villain capture? Yep. Even more so if the villain gives him a particularly rough time and his hero costume is in tatters, and it shows more of his glistening muscles. Helping an old person cross the street? Has people gagging at his gentle action despite him telling off the senior citizen to not waste his time by going out alone and endangering themselves. Dynamight cups the old person's elbow and walks slowly while glaring at the cars to stop (the old person finds him endearing and thanks him anyway, seeing right thru him just like the whole internet).

The number one, failproof, low-effort way to get him to be the talk of the WEEK is just whenever it involves you.

People see you patrolling together, Dynamight pacing slightly behind you but still close enough. Whenever you get stopped by some fans, you entertain them and Bakugo acts like your bodyguard. He'd be standing right behind you and watch, also serving as a human barricade to block people off to prevent bumping into you. Sometimes he'd fiddle with your costume's accessories, fixing it a little if it looks out of place. People always manage to capture it on video and upload it online, and they eat it up everytime.

He'll be trending when his fellow Pro Hero friends post on their stories during their get togethers. There's this one particular story that went peak viral. Ochaco had been filming everyone and managed to take a video of the moment where a picture was being taken. He looked grumpy at first but then you scooched closer to him, his face immediately relaxes and only looks at you while you pose for the pic. Seeing the video trend, Mina, the one who took the group selfie, posted the resulting pic that night. Lo' and behold, Bakugo looking at you with a softened expression as you pose for the pic, your hand in a peace sign while a drink in the other as you lean onto Bakugo while his hand was visibly resting on your hip. The internet went wild.

The comments on Mina's post were mostly about him and you. And Bakugo adds fuel to the fire, liking every comment about how beautiful you are. People tweeting screenshots of their notifications that says Dynamight's official account liked their comments.

Bakugo doesnt really care for being viral all the time, so he wouldnt know. Its only when his friends tell him about the things people say that he knows, and when you tell him.

[thewinter-eden]

Don't Look At Me Like That

images are mine (except middle HH pic that I got from pinterest). please do not use without permission. ATE pcs are my inspo for this series.

part 4 of the skz crack!horror series (this concludes the Hyung Line).

pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x fem!reader rating: mature, dark themes summary: hitman!Hyunjin’s next target is you, the child of a foreign diplomat. But when he shows up to do the job and finds you ambivalent to the threat upon your life, he can’t help but ask what the hell is wrong with you.

warnings: Terminal illness, smoking, asshole family, political family, angst, unrealistic trust fund, drugs, implications of overdose, implications of involuntary overdose, assault, discussion of surgery, depictions of cysts/tumors, USD instead of Korean Won, Gossip Girl reference, some language, kidnapping.

word count: 6k

Comment a request to be tagged.

series info PART 2 INFO

The first igniting drags of your cigarette feel like a second glass of wine. For a second, you’re lighter than air and the world tips on its axis.

Your family hates your penchant for cigarettes. They call you disgusting; unhygienic; stupid.

Although, In a way, your literal toxic trait has actually strengthened your personal hygiene—a rigorous unskippable skincare routine, to fight the weathering of your face, expensive and regular dental care to prevent the yellowing of teeth, your hands under a constant layer of hand sanitizer and scented perfume to combat the clinging stench of smoke, every surface of your bedroom cleaned daily and your laundry crisply pressed and regularly washed—just because you’re a shameless human chimney doesn’t mean you intend to wear the grime of cigarette smoke as an accessory.

Not that any of that matters anymore.

You take another drag and feel your body settle into the familiar rhythm. In front of you, on the other side of your glass cage (read: bedroom window) the city stretches out in front of you, lights poking holes in the blanket of darkness that covers it.

The clock reads 6 PM.

Lifting one hand, tapping a black-polished nail against the glass, watching your arm tremble, you give a resigned sigh and blow a puff of smoke through the opening. The plume rises and disperses into the atmosphere, vanishing before your eyes.

You finish your cigarette and crush the filter into your ash tray, yanking the curtains closed. The next few minutes are muscle memory—shrugging out of your robe, spritzing it with vodka to remove the smoke smell, exfoliating your hands and arms with a sugar scrub, brushing and whitening your teeth, covering yourself head to toe in moisturizer.

All for the sake of appearances.

When you close yourself into the bathroom to change half an hour later, all you smell is coffee from the sugar scrub and the sickly sweet aroma of your flowery lotion.

“You’re coming, right?” Your best friend Lisa’s voice booms through the phone, the sound of pounding music and raucous laughter filling the background.

You’re already dressed, brushing excess highlighter and powder off your face as you stand before your mirror. “Of course I’m coming, I promised you I would. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” You take a second to check your watch.

Lisa had made plans with you to meet at the party at 8, but she always arrives early enough to be four or five drinks ahead by the time you show up. This inevitably leads to her finding someone to spend an hour in the closest lockable room with and you calling your dad’s driver to take you home.

It’s not that you don’t ever want a hook up or a boyfriend or anything, it’s just that you’re the seventeen-year-old daughter of a politician and you have rules.

You can’t be out after 11, you can’t be seen with mile-deep cleavage or thigh-high hems, and you certainly can’t be drunk in public—especially as a minor. So you smooth the fabric of the just barely appropriate outfit you’ve chosen and check your reflection one last time.

It takes a second to convince yourself that the heaviness of your eyes isn’t because of your dark liner, that the dullness in your expression isn’t obvious.

“Well hurry on over. I’ve found someone you just have to meet.”

When you arrive, you’re wading through a house that’s teeming with high schoolers, the walls reverberating with pounding music. You find Lisa near the kitchen, one arm slung around the neck of one of her friends, the other hand clutching a plastic cup.

When her eyes land on you, she all but screeches your name over the clamor and reaches for you. The girl that she was just leaning on takes the opportunity to pull away and stretch her arms upward, trying to correct the awkward hunch that Lisa had put her in. She shoots you a grateful smile and disappears into the crowd, looking for her boyfriend.

Lisa’s in your face in the next second, her breath already reeking. She catches you in a tight, sloppy hug, the contents of her cup splashing your shoulder as she trips. “I’m so glad you’re here,” She says, and if her body language says drunk, her voice certainly doesn’t. Her lipstick is smeared and she’s staggering a little but her voice is crisp and sharp. “I was worried you’d change your mind again.”

She runs a hand up the back of your neck and playfully squeezes the knot of your hair that you’ve taken the time to elegantly pin.

It’s a ritual at this point.

You have the worst habits—smoking and drinking and slipping your curfew after everyone’s asleep—but you don’t go anywhere without a Princess Grace-like appearance. Because it doesn’t matter what you do as long as you’re not shitfaced on the front page the next morning. Even if you’ve snuck out at night to meet a boyfriend, when the cameras catch you on the streets you’re perfectly coiffed and sleekly styled.

Even now, you don’t look like you’re dressed for a high school party so much as a cocktail one, but Lisa tells you it makes you look more like Blair Waldorf than the homeschooler you’re always worried you emulate.

You push her hand out of your hair and check to make sure the pins haven’t come out. “Did you get me one of those?” You nod towards the cup in her hand and her eyes light up.

She nods towards the kitchen. “I got you, babe, come with me.”

You follow her, one hand reaching for her hip to steady her when she falls off one of her high heels, and then you’re in the kitchen and the noise of the party is muffled behind the heavy swinging door.

There’s one other person in the room with you, a tall, slender guy near the sink, shoulders hunched slightly as he gazes out the window. You’re still trailing after Lisa, but your eyes are taking in the long black hair that the guy has pulled back in a half pony, the slim-cut jacket with the sleeves pushed up past his elbows, the ripped jeans that cinch at his small waist and hang loosely around his legs.

When the two of you enter, his head turns, and you see the sharpness of his jaw, the definition of his features. There’s a flutter in your chest when his dark eyes land on you, and you whip your head away, crowding yourself behind Lisa.

She’s crushing something with a spoon, dumping it in the cup she’s just poured for you. Then she spins on one heel—surprisingly stable as she does—and passes it to you. “Here.”

You stare at the powder floating on top, and then back at her. “What did you put in this?”

“Nothing heavy.” She assures you, and knocks back a couple of the tablets herself. “Just something to take the edge off. Go ahead.”

It doesn’t matter anyway.

You drink, sucking in the yeasty beer with fervor, trying your hardest not to taste it as it goes down. Before you can finish the cup, Lisa catches your arm and turns you towards the man at the window. She introduces you without giving you a chance to question her, and tells you his name is Hyunjin—the guy she wanted you to meet.

He turns to you fully, eyes tracing you head to toe. There’s a gentle smile on his full lips as he notices the blush that rushes to your face. “Nice to meet you,” He says kindly. “I think I’ve seen you on TV.”

As the words reach your ears, you feel yourself growing more guarded despite the opposite effects of the alcohol. You’re used to being recognized, you’re used to being used for your dad’s fame and fortune. You’ve been burned before, and you have no intention of using this time to be manipulated again.

So you pull yourself up into a respectful posture and prepare to treat him like the occasional politically-conscious “fan” who asks you to take a picture. It doesn’t happen often, but you do tend to be popular amongst the poli-sci students at the local college.

“He’s a senior.” Lisa says, and gives you a nudge towards him. “He’s going to study art.”

Your eyes widen just slightly, and you look over Hyunjin again. At second glance, he does look the type. He’s effortlessly fashionable, quiet, reserved—at least on first impression. You extend your hand politely. “Pleasure to meet you. Are you a practitioner or a history buff?”

At your strictly professional tone, Hyunjin laughs under his breath and steps in to take your hand, enveloping it in the warmth of his own. “A little of both, I suppose. I sketch and paint. Lisa tells me you’re quite the watercolorist?”

You blush a little at the recognition of your most intimate hobby. “I play around with it a little, but it’s just for fun.” When you notice he’s still grasping your palm, you gently pull your hand back.

Lisa grips your arm again, and leans in so close that you can smell the cologne of the last boy she had her hands on. “Why don’t you two hang out a little? You’re both the same about parties, so I figured you’d get along. Cool? I’m going to go find Mingyu.”

There’s nothing you can say to make her stay, even if you could think of the words to try. So you just watch her disappear, the noise of the party warbling strangely as the door swings back and forth behind her.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Your eyes snap back to Hyunjin. “What?”

“When I said I’d seen you on TV.”

“Oh.” You pull another long sip from your drink and wince. “I’m not uncomfortable.”

“You’re standing like you’re at a press conference.” His eyes are alive with mirth as he watches you subtly try to shuffle your posture, brows lowering.

You’re coming back to yourself, your body acclimatizing to the atmosphere and whatever it was that Lisa put in your drink, your nerves no longer responding to every little glance that Hyunjin gives you. So you just shrug a shoulder and search the kitchen for your drink of choice. “I’m not uncomfortable as long as you’re not interested in some kind of fifteen minutes of fame bullshit.”

There it is.

You drain your beer as Hyunjin chuckles behind you and rinse your cup of the vile liquid, instead filling it with about four ounces of whiskey from a glass cabinet.

Hyunjin watches your movements with an eyebrow cocked. “I’m pretty sure that wasn’t meant to be a party favor.”

You nurse the drink slowly, settling into the comfort of the initial burn. “You gonna tell on me?”

He examines you again, shaking his head. “Not if you pour me one.”

You do, and then settle back against the counter. “Why come to a party if you’re going to hide in the kitchen?”

“I could ask you the same thing. Kinda surprised your dad lets you come to something like this.”

You used to be, too. Now you just huff. “As long as I’m not a scandalous headline tomorrow, he doesn’t care where I go or what I do. And I don’t usually hide in the kitchen.” It’s true, you don’t. There’s a handful of people out there that you like to talk to, a couple of them you even like to dance with if the occasion calls for it, but right now you’re not itching to leave where you’re at.

Hyunjin’s eyebrows raise as he looks at you, and he glances towards the door. “Then why—”

“Because I’m talking to you.” The confidence comes with the whiskey. The taste of it in the back of your throat distracts you from the blush you would ordinarily be fighting if you had said those words soberly to someone as attractive as Hyunjin, and right now you’re just enjoying the way his eyes crinkle and the sweet smile explodes across his face.

It’s cute.

He’s cute.

He shuffles his feet beneath him for a second, the air between you comfortable as he lets the effects of your statement fade. When the flustered state is mostly gone from his face, he glances up at you again, almost shyly. “You’re really pretty.” And then, feeling the weight of his own words as they drop off his tongue, his eyes widen and he hastens to soften their impact. “I like your earrings.”

But you just smile, watching the pink in his cheeks as he swallows a regrettably large gulp of whiskey.

“You’re really pretty, too.” You say, and his head snaps around to you.

For a long second, he just stares at you.

It’s not often that you find yourself talking to someone you want to open yourself up to, someone you like to see so flustered, but he’s so completely enchanting that you can’t take your eyes off him and you don’t want to stop saying things that make him look at you like that.

There are only so many things that you can enjoy in a life like yours, and you want to enjoy this.

Hyunjin pours you both another drink.

You’re grateful, especially because there’s a nagging part of you telling you to go outside and smoke a cigarette, so instead you bring your cup to your lips and sip. You move to reach for a bottle of lemon juice and it puts you right next to him, feeling the radiating warmth of his side as you mix your drink into a whiskey sour.

He doesn’t move away.

Out of the corner of your eyes you catch the faintest tremble of his hand, and a smirk curves your lips.

His eyes are on you as you pinch a sprinkle of sugar into the drink and then suck the granules off your thumb.

You turn slightly, so close that you don’t even have to reach to offer him your drink. “Want to try?”

His eyes flick from yours, to the drink, and back to your face. Hyunjin’s tongue appears to swipe across his lower lip, and then he nods, taking the cup from you.

You thoroughly enjoy the swirling in your stomach when his fingers brush yours.

He drinks from your cup, face scrunching slightly as he takes in the taste of it.

At the crumpling of his eyebrows, you frown, suddenly interrupted from the sense of control you feel. “You don’t like it?”

Hyunjin lowers the cup from his lips with a look of surprise, shaking his head. “I love it.” He holds it out to you. “Would you show me how you made it?”

It’s not a complicated drink, the whiskey sour.

You find yourself smirking again, and push the cup back towards him. “Keep it. I’ll make myself another one.” And you take his whiskey from him, turning to fix yourself another drink. When he just stands there, mentally processing how he somehow ended up trading drinks with you, you know you have him.

So when he edges closer, the heat of his body flooding into your skin, you’re not surprised. You keep your hands moving, your eyes on your drink, pretending you don’t notice the way he’s suddenly leaning into your side.

“You smell good,” He says lowly, and your heart does a flip.

But you play it off casually, focused on getting the lid off the lemon juice bottle. “You like it? I’m not so sure yet.”

It’s gotta be the oldest trick in the book, but he takes the opportunity like it’s a written permission slip and then his face is at the junction of your neck and shoulder, the whisper of his breath on your skin.

“I like it,” He murmurs.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him place his cup on the counter next to you, and then both of his hands settle on your arms. His touch is light, gentle, his thumbs smoothing questioning strokes against your sleeves, asking permission.

When you tilt your head to the side, exposing more of your neck to him, it’s a yes.

His lips are on your shoulder then, his fingers wrapping firmly around your arms.

Your entire body heats up.

He’s leaning into you, trailing his mouth from your shoulder to your neck, then slowly up your throat until your head is edging back, leaning against his shoulder, giving him access. Hyunjin’s hand slides up one arm, cupping the curve of your neck as he litters wet kisses across your jaw, and his other hand reaches around to cover both of yours where you realize that at some point you abandoned your efforts to make a drink.

He turns you around and you let him, throwing your head back as his mouth leaves a glistening trail across your collarbones and up your throat, moving up to suck gently at the point of your jaw beneath your ear. “I really do like your earrings.” He whispers, and you feel him flick the dangling gemstone with his tongue.

You’re trembling under his hands, and you wish you could say it’s from his highly effective ministrations, but you know it’s not. You peel your eyes open, all but panting as his arm circles your waist, pulling you closer. His forehead drops against yours, and you watch his tongue dart out to lick his lips.

“Can we move this somewhere more private?” He whispers, and then he’s sucking at your jaw on the other side, his fingers gripping the flesh at your hips.

You can’t help a laugh. “More private than the closed kitchen where it’s just us?”

“Please?” He whimpers against your throat.

You have absolutely no reason to protest. You’re nodding, aching, allowing him to push you towards the kitchen door, because this could be it. This could be your last. He’s every fantasy you’ve ever had, the absolute embodiment of beauty and seduction, and even one night with him could be everything.

What do you have to lose?

You stand to lose more by turning him down at this point.

So when his hands guide you through the living room, your ears barraged by music and laughter, your eyes assaulted by the flashes of too much skin and way too much pda, you just lean into his touch around your waist and let him find a room to duck into.

That’s how you find yourself pushed onto your back on someone’s bed, your heart in your ears as Hyunjin straddles you, his face returning to its spot against your throat, kissing his way towards your collar.

You feel his hands trail up your sides, his thumbs sweeping at the swell of your breasts, and for a second, you panic.

You’re not sure what he’ll think of you, how he’ll react to you when he finally gets his hands on you, but you can’t even worry about it for long because he’s nipping at your throat, his hands dragging your arms above your head.

Breathing in gasps, heart hammering as he laces the fingers of one hand through both of yours, trapping your hands above your head, you arch yourself into him as his free hand comes back towards his hip.

“You really are very pretty,” Hyunjin breathes into your ear, and then he presses a surprisingly chaste kiss to your cheek. “I just want you to know that.” Still holding your hands, he settles his weight back on your hips and pulls something out of his pocket.

You frown at him, chest heaving with breathlessness, confused. “What do you mean?”

Hyunjin brings his free hand back into view, now holding something cylindrical. Bringing the end of it to his mouth, prying off a plastic cap with his teeth, you can see the object as it catches the light.

A hypodermic needle, filled with something.

He spits the cap out of his mouth, eyebrows pinched in concentration. “Don’t move, angel, this doesn’t have to hurt.”

But you’re not moving, you’re just staring at the needle, trying desperately to make sense of the complete shift in atmosphere. You’re no longer trapped in a lovers’ embrace, you’re trapped. He has your hands immobilized, your lower body caught beneath his own, completely vulnerable.

He arches his body, reaching to slip the needle into a vein in your arm, and you understand.

You understand.

A deep sigh rushes out of your lungs.

You thought you’d have more time, but at this point, what does it matter?

Just before the needle pricks your flesh, Hyunjin seems to realize that you’re not fighting him at all. His eyes flick down to you, and he finds you blinking solemnly at his shoulder, not a single emotion on your face.

He pauses.

You close your eyes, suck in a deep breath, and let it out.

There’s no fear, no more surprise, no apprehension.

Just exhaustion; resignation.

It doesn’t matter. He leans in towards your arm again, angling the needle to prod your vein. You don’t even flinch as it pricks your skin, sliding into your flesh. His thumb hovers over the plunger, but doesn’t press.

He’s never had a mark just lay there.

They’ve never just…accepted it.

He glances at your face again. “Angel…do you know what’s happening right now?” You had only had a few drinks, and the flush of your face could be from the drugs or the drink or his lips on your throat, but surely you should be a little concerned by the sheer volume of what he’s about to push into your bloodstream.

“I know,” You respond flatly. “He shouldn’t have bothered, honestly, but it’s not like he knew.”

Hyunjin’s brain stutters with confusion. “He?”

“My father,” You say, and your eyes meet his. “He wasted his money, hiring you to kill me.”

Huh.

That’s not at all how he expected this to go.

“I guess he’s paying Lisa, too, since she started with the pills.” It stings, knowing your best friend would accept cash to kill you, but you also know that your father wouldn’t have offered an insignificant sum.

Whatever he’s paying Lisa will set her up for life.

“So they’ll find me, tonight or tomorrow, just another stupid teenager who tried to have too much fun, and the two of you are just the dumb high school friends to corroborate that it was just an accident. Right?”

You don’t cry, you don’t fight, you don’t yell.

He stares at you, shocked. “You don’t sound surprised.”

“You don’t seem apprehensive about killing a girl for money.”

Hyunjin’s jaw tightens. “It’s my job.”

“So you don’t go to this high school, then.” You mutter sarcastically.

He rolls his eyes. “I don’t go to any high school.” Then he catches your gaze again. “But it really is my job. It’s not like it’s personal.”

You take a second, absorbing the reality of what’s happening to you. It’s over.

It’s over.

This is it.

Forget three months.

It’s over now.

You weren’t prepared for this timeframe, but you are prepared. You have coped.

It’s not a new idea.

So you just nod. “Okay.”

It’s like he starts to lean to finish the job, and then pulls himself back. “Why did you say he shouldn’t have bothered?”

You laugh then, a loud, inelegant burst of laughter, almost directly into his chest.

He’s startled, eyes wide, leaning back on your hips to stare down at you. “Angel, I’m literally about to kill you, why the hell are you laughing? There’s no way you’re that drunk.”

And you’re not.

The sheer adrenaline of his lips on your skin burned through that alcohol what seems like hours ago, and now you’re just sinking into oblivion, still laughing.

Finally, tears of irony in your eyes, you wheeze up at him. “Go ahead and finish it, Hyunjin, or whoever you are. It doesn’t make a difference anyway. I’m alright. Finish it.” You nod upwards, towards the direction of your joined hands, and wish that the scent of his skin wasn’t still making your head swim.

It’s really not the time to be attracted to the assassin whom your father hired to murder you.

But he’s stuck, indecisive.

Because you’re laying underneath him, sniffling past a rush of humor—of all things—completely unconcerned and telling him that you’re alright with him killing you. That you’re alright with him subjecting you to a drug overdose that’s going to be painful and terrifying and the end of your life.

At this point, you seem to be more alright with it than he is.

And then you’re smiling at him. “Thanks for being nice about it.”

His heart lurches. “What the hell.” He yanks the needle out of your skin, releases your hands, and sits back on your hips again, eyes wide and unbelieving. “I mean—what the hell? What is wrong with you?”

You roll your eyes. “He must not be paying you much if you’re willing to back out just because I’m pitiful.”

Which isn’t true, he’s supposed to be paid quite a lot for this job, but he just can’t comprehend how you’re reacting.

“Why shouldn’t he have bothered?”

You’re no longer trapped except for the way he’s straddling your hips, so now you’re just laying against an uncomfortable pair of pillows, feeling the pins of your updo poking into your neck. If he’s supposed to kill you, why won’t he just do it? You search his eyes, finding only confusion and concern.

Sighing, you reach for his hand—the empty one that used to be holding both of yours against the headboard.

Oh, how you expected a very different outcome from this situation.

He flinches as he suddenly finds you bringing his hand towards your chest, jerking it back when you lay his palm over your breast.

It’s almost comical the way his face heats up.

Clearly, his earlier show of attraction towards you had been aided by a hurriedly consumed volume of alcohol and a professionally put-on flustered attitude, but now, when you made him touch you, he seems genuinely awkward.

And, for your side of things, you were going to let him feel you up anyway, so what’s the difference now?

You quirk an eyebrow. “I’m not asking you for anything, just give me your hand.”

He doesn’t protest when you catch his hand again, his cheeks flushed pink, until you drag his fingers across the slope of your breast and they trip over a lump of flesh that’s hard as a rock. The flustered color drains from his face, and then he’s frowning, leaning in, moving of his own accord to swipe his fingers over the place once more, as though he wasn’t sure he felt it the first time.

You let him.

When he pulls his hand back into his lap and stares at you, you just smile. “Did you know, in the early days of breast cancer surgery, a woman went in to have a lump removed, and when she came out of anesthesia, she was missing an entire breast, some ribs, and like half of the muscle wall of her chest? And the fuckass doctors were like “we got it!” Like, you don’t burn down the house in order to kill a spider and then say, “Don’t worry, we got it!””

Hyunjin blinks at you, mentally parsing your unexpected rambling. “They’ve, uh…come a long way in terms of cancer surgeries, I think.”

A puff of breath escapes your lips, another sardonic laugh. “It’s too late for that. It’s in my bones, my lymphatic, everywhere. I got to it too late.” You roll your eyes and press a palm to your forehead. “So, yeah, he shouldn’t have bothered. Three months and I would have been out of his hair for free.”

A few seconds pass as you process the words you haven’t yet admitted out loud to anyone, as he processes what you’re telling him.

He’s trying to kill a girl who’s already dying.

No wonder she didn’t care.

“So, how much is he paying you?” You question lightly, eyes searching for the syringe. You assume he’ll finish the job—everybody has to pay the rent, and it’s not like you’ve got your life ahead of you anyway.

Hyunjin scrubs a hand over his face and sighs. “Three million.”

You outright scoff at that, shocking him once again. “He’s ripping you off, dude. Did he tell you why he hired you?”

“I don’t ask. I am a professional, you know.” He brings his hand to his chest like he’s offended, and allows the slightest smile to twist his lips when you roll your eyes again.

You wedge your hands under you. “Can I sit up? I need to smoke and you’re killing my back.” You wiggle your hips and try to scoot yourself back. As he lifts his own hips off of you, you raise an eyebrow. “Not that I mind.”

At that, he flushes again.

Laughing softly, you pull yourself up to sit against the headboard, dragging your knees to your chest, and watch as he sits himself in front of you, cross-legged. For the time that it takes you to slide a cigarette from your purse and light it between your lips, he’s silent, watching you.

The syringe is at his side, laying between the wrinkles in the blanket, forgotten.

“My trust fund defaults back to him if I die before I hit eighteen.” You inform him. “And it’s 25 million dollars.”

His mouth falls open. “Why the hell is your trust fund so much money?”

“When my mom was dying, my father promised her he would help her allot her estate into a trust fund for me, plus a hefty sum from his own assets as a romantic gesture. For all his faults, he’s never loved anyone the way he loved her.” You scoff, sucking in a comforting drag of smoke. You’re careful to blow it away from him, to knock your ashes into the ring tray on the bedside table instead of allowing them to fall into the carpet. “But that was fifteen years ago, and I guess he forgot that he loved her once.”

“So he wants your trust fund.” Hyunjin says, leaning forward to rest his chin on his palm. “Because he forgot he loves you too?”

Your lips pinch. “I’m just a reminder of when he used to be a better man.”

Silence ticks between you, and the smell of your cigarette permeates the air. You can’t care enough to apologize to him for your filthy habit, because if it’s the last cigarette you’re ever going to have, you might as well enjoy it.

But he doesn’t seem put off by it, instead wrapping his hands around your ankles and pulling your feet into the criss-cross of his legs so he can scoot closer to you, resting his hands on your thighs.

You’re surprised, but not displeased with the gentle embrace of your legs.

“I don’t want to kill you, angel,” He says, and rests his chin on your knees.

It’s too much, the doe-eyed boy staring at you through the dim light, holding you close to him and running his hands up and down your thighs, fingers sweeping low enough to run across your hips.

You can’t look at him.

Turning your eyes away, you knock the ash off the end of your cigarette and laugh. “That’s so kind, thanks.” You drop the rest of the butt into the tray and brush your hands together. “Alright. I’m ready. Let’s get you paid.” You scoop up the syringe and hold it out to him, eyes wide and inviting.

He takes it from you, but he doesn’t take your arm again.

In the quiet of his indecision, you can’t help yourself. Your fingers find the soft swoop of his hair falling over his forehead, letting a few strands slide through your fingers before you pull yourself together and extend your arm to him. “Do it, Hyunjin.” You say softly, ignoring the way your movements made him look at you. “If you don’t do it, he’ll hire someone else. His campaign isn’t doing well, he’s facing asset forfeiture—he needs the money. If you don’t kill me, someone else will.”

Hyunjin’s hand finds yours, his fingertips smoothing up the underside of your forearm towards that vein that he found earlier. A drop of blood has gathered where he pricked you, the trail where it dripped dry and crusted.

You’re not scared, you’re not worried.

You’re a little relieved, actually, that you don’t have to pretend anymore. Because you’ve known for months that your time is running out. You’ve known for months that no one would care even if you told them.

The pounding of the music outside the door fills the space, reminding you that you were supposed to come in here to have the night of your life, and now, instead, the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen is going to inject poison into your bloodstream and leave you to die on a stranger’s bed.

That does dishearten you a little bit.

He presses his thumb against the vein. His eyes flick up to yours. “When is your birthday?”

You cock your head curiously, wondering. “Next month.”

Hyunjin lets the vein go and sets the syringe down near his hip. “I’ll make you a deal.” He takes your other hand, too, peering into your face with sincerity. “If I keep you alive until your birthday, we split the trust fund, 70-30. Then at least you don’t let your dad win, and maybe you can see if there’s some super expensive doctor who can help you. Or something. What do you think?”

You blink. “You’re going to trade being an assassin for being a bodyguard just for eight million dollars?”

He smirks, a flash of teeth in the dark. “Seven and a half, actually. And it’s a better gig than killing a dying seventeen-year-old just so her asshole father can take her trust fund. So, what do you say?”

You’re almost a hundred percent sure there’s no doctor or surgeon in the world who can fix your cancer at this point. All the ones you’ve spoken to so far won’t even recommend radiation or chemo, because there’s no point. They keep saying things like “quality of life” and “keep you comfortable,” not, “if only you had more money.”

But it’s interesting, this deal he’s put forward.

Die tonight or spend a month with a gorgeous young assassin?

Is it even a choice?

“We split it 50-50.” You say. “All I want to do with my half is give it to cancer research.”

He’s surprised again, his mind now struggling to grasp an influx of almost thirteen million dollars, and he nods slowly. “Okay. So we have a deal?”

He’s already holding your hands, so you can’t exactly shake on it, but you nod with a shrug. “Deal.”

You’ve never seen a smile as sweet as the one he gives you after that. “Good. Get your coat, angel—you’re coming home with me.”

Eyebrows skyrocketing, you follow his movements as he bounds off the bed and scoops up your purse. “So you’re going to kidnap me instead of murdering me?”

He holds out a hand and waits for you to take it. “Are you arguing?”

You let him haul you off the bed and find yourself laughing as his arm circles your waist and he hurries you out of the room. “Not in the slightest.”

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